


Magic Word

by elroymarvelous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 16:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5462981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elroymarvelous/pseuds/elroymarvelous





	Magic Word

Dean wakes up to the most wonderful smell filling up the bunker. The unmistakeable aroma of apple pie. He inhaled deeply, and kept his eyes closed, still snuggled under the blankets. Reaching over to the right side of the bed, he found it empty. Disappointed that you are missing, he gets up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a tee-shirt, making his way toward the kitchen and source of the wonderful smell. He can’t help but grin at what he finds. You dance around the kitchen wearing only Dean’s shirt, your underwear, and an apron. You had hooked your phone up to the sound system and now are playing Y/F/M. You were making breakfast while waiting for the pies to cool. Swaying your hips to the music, you stir the eggs on the stove. You jump slightly when Dean places his hands on your waist, kissing your shoulder. His voice is wonderfully gravelly from sleep.  
“Good morning.”  
You two have been dating for a year and he still causes butterflies in your stomach. Turning just enough in his grasp, you place a kiss on his nose.   
“Happy birthday, Dean. I made-”  
He places a finger on your lips, stopping you. You give him look to show your confusion at his action.   
“Don’t say it, because if you do I’ll have to kiss you.”  
“Is kissing me such a bad thing?”  
You feign hurt.  
“No, I like kissing you, but my br-”  
“Pie. I made pie.”  
You smile mischievously at him.   
“I warned you Y/N.”  
He captures your lips in a kiss filled with passion and love. You kiss him right back threading your fingers in his hair. He moves you away from the stove, hands on your hips until your back hits the fridge. You pull away enough to breath and he leans his forehead against yours.   
“As much as I love to see you in my shirt, you look far better without one at all.”  
“You’ll have to fix that then.”  
“Oh I will.”  
He picks you up and carries you back to the bedroom, stopping only so that you could turn off the stove. Breakfast can happen later.


End file.
